


if you cannot teach me to fly, teach me to sing.

by spjderloki



Category: Brooklyn Nine-Nine (TV)
Genre: (I promise), Alternate Universe - High School, Cute Ending, F/M, Fluff and Angst, How Do I Tag, I Don't Even Know, I Will Go Down With This Ship, Jake Peralta is Bad at Feelings, Peraltiago fluff, Pining Amy Santiago, Pining Jake Peralta, Roger Peralta Bashing, Young Amy, Young Jake, anonymous emails, anxious jake peralta, because i'm a theatre kid myself so, but with like minor appearances, just read it'll be good i promise, the rest of the squad is sorta there, theatre kid!jake
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-27
Updated: 2019-03-05
Packaged: 2019-11-06 09:49:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,307
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17937500
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spjderloki/pseuds/spjderloki
Summary: “just tell me, why do you ask me to change for you? why should you want me to? go on, tell me when you believed i’d grow up your way? and do i have no say about me?” jake’s eyes filled with tears, but like the professional actor he was, he canalized every sentiment into the song and kept going. amy, behind the curtain, shed a tear. right there and then, she's certain she has never loved anyone more.(or, two weeks before graduation jake realizes he has three problems to solve, including but not limited to his decision to go against his parents' orders and sign up for a theatre major and his increasing crush for his longtime best friend, the one and only amelia santiago)





	1. Overture

**Author's Note:**

> hey! hi! hello!  
> well, i spent the last six hours planning this story, and i have no shame in admitting that i have no idea how it's gonna go. it's the first time i'm ever writing a story like this, and i'm really excited! i hope you enjoy reading it as much as i'm enjoying the writing. <3
> 
> trigger warnings: violent reactions and anxiety attacks. stay safe!

_ One, two, three, four…  
_ _ One, two, three, four… _

Jake counted carefully each and every single step he took on stage, following the lines the white tape marked on the floor. He watched his toes and smiled childishly as he heard his own mental pace. As sounds of a magical harp made an appearance and a gentle lullaby filled the atmosphere, he looked up and to the crowd of empty chairs with a smirk.

“Good evening, ladies and gentlemen!” he greeted enthusiastically with his orotund voice. “Welcome to a wonderful story about… Myself!” Jake bowed theatrically and then continued to bound on stage. A slightly shorter girl then rushed into the scene and started to flutter around him. He took a small step forward,  _ two, three, four… _

A line of girls and boys entered the frame of sight and sat together in a row, behind Jake and Gina, the girl that kept rushing in circles around him. Her Tinkerbell was strangely more convincing than he would’ve expected. The group of girls and boys (or “stars”, according to the script, even though they had not much of a star appearance without any costume) stretched, yawned and then, proceeded to fall asleep.

“For what could be more wonderful than a story about me?” He continued to phrase. “You see, it all began this way…” and with that, he took a larger step ahead and sat with his legs crossed in the edge of the stage. “Once upon a time, there were four little stars sleeping in the sky,” Jake looked up and to the horizon, his gaze filled with a hope expected to be found in a kid’s eyes. In the back, Tinkerbell woke up the stars as he spoke. He turned around but not completely, because you never turn your back on the crowd, and he stared at all four of the stars waking up and looking back at him. Tinkerbell walked up to him and whispered in his ear. “Me? Why? Everyone knows who I am!” Jake jumped on his feet and posed triumphantly. “I’m Peter Pan, of course!” He exclaimed.

The stars complained.  _ Big deal, show off.  _ Jake frowned. “Hey! I’m the leader and what I say goes! And I say it’s time for you to tell my story.”

“We’re tired of that story, Peter,” one of the stars argued back. In the middle of her chest, a tape written over with a red marker said  _ Sparkle _ .

“It’s always about you, isn’t it?” Added another one,  _ Stellar _ . Jake shook his arms in discontent.

“Tell my story or at once I’ll… I’ll…” He glanced over at Tinkerbell and how she motioned blowing out the stars. “I’ll blow you out!”

The stars, then, took a step back and started to beg almost immediately.  _ Not that, anything but that, please, Peter! _ And as Jake was ready to continue with the dialogue, he was abruptly interrupted by the ringing signal that finished the class. He sighed, forced to come back to the real world.

Sadly, the stars were comically saved by the bell.

“That was great, everyone! Good job,” the teacher announced and every student grabbed their belongings to walk out the stage. Frustrated, Jake sat on the floor with his legs crossed, refusing to go to his next class. Leaving the stage meant being Jake once again instead of Peter, and being Jake meant that he had to face his amazingly large pile of problems. He lay on the floor and took a deep breath. If there was anything more peaceful than being alone on stage, he didn’t want to know about it. He felt so safe right there and then, and he had no intention whatsoever to go back to the stone cold life that high school represented.

_ Okay _ , he admitted in silence.  _ Perhaps it’s not  _ _ that _ _ bad _ . And as he thought of that, he realized he wasn’t alone on stage after all. “I don’t wanna hear it, Amy,” he said out loud, his words heavy but with a smile drawn across his face.

“I wasn’t gonna say anything,” a higher-pitched voice replied almost instantly as a figure appeared next to him, “but now that you mention it… Aren’t you gonna be late for class, Jake?”

“Aren’t  _ you _ ?” He looked at her, still lying on the ground, and followed her with his eyes as she sat next to him. He could tell her cheeks exploded in red and pink shades.

“I have a free period,” she said, a little ashamed. She surely didn’t enjoy missing any classes, but she couldn’t  _ make _ her History teacher stop bailing. “You okay, Peter?” She asked after a few seconds of comfortable silence.

“Yeah. Just tired.”

“You did great today if that helps,” she said wholeheartedly. Jake looked at her and his heart skipped a beat. He smiled widely.

“Thanks, Ames. It’s only because you wrote the scene so well.”

“Well, uh, you know,” she replied fastly, looking at him and then to her own restless hands, “the  _ real _ hero here is J. M. Barrie.”

Jake laughed. “You’re weird, Santiago,” he said and Amy rolled her eyes. She extended her hand and Jake took it, standing up. “I gotta go to class, sadly. What are you gonna do with your free period? Don’t say studying.”

“I’m not gonna study,” she said and Jake gasped exaggeratedly, at what Amy laughed softly, “I’m gonna work on the play. The premiere’s in two weeks… I just wanna make sure I do my part.”

_ Two weeks. _ That statement had Jake fidgety.  _ Two weeks until the premiere. Two weeks until graduation. Two weeks.  _ He nodded, slightly dizzy, and smiled at her before walking towards the exit of the auditorium. Before leaving, he turned at Amy and caught her attention. “Hey,” he said and smiled. “Your script is amazing. The play is doing great because of it. Don’t put so much pressure in yourself… It’ll be fine, I promise.”

Amy smiled at him. “Thanks, Jake. Right back at you,” she said, frowning at herself. ‘ _ Right back at you’? What was that supposed to mean?  _ Still, Jake seemed to take it really well, for his face lit up with a characteristical smile before walking through the door and finally leaving the theater.   
  


 

* * *

 

 

Jake’s state of mind could only be described as a multi-fruit milkshake. The number of thoughts going around inside his head made him feel giddy, and so, he did the only thing he could do. He pulled an Amy Santiago, which means, he made a list. As the teacher of who-knows-what-subject kept talking about who-knows-what in particular, Jake wrote down a first and second item.

Boy, Amy would be over the top when he told her about it later. She always freaked out when Jake acted somehow more responsibly than usual, especially when it came to utilizing her trademark methods (making lists, counting from 10 to 1 to calm down…). Unconsciously, Jake smiled at the empty piece of paper, and once he noticed, he wrote down something very specific that appeared to be one of his most consistent problems.

After staring at the list for around ten minutes, he realized those were his only three problems and managed to feel calm for a while. It was a short while, of course, because then he came to a second realization: he had two weeks  — fourteen days to fix it all. And he had no idea where to start. He covered his face with both his hands and sighed.

“I’m sorry, do you not find this intriguing enough, Mr. Peralta?” The teacher caught his attention and Jake looked up immediately, his five senses spiking. “Do you think  _ you _ can show us all how to explain Advanced Placement Microeconomics?” Ah, Social Studies. Possibly the worst subject to ever exist, Jake thought. But not right there, no. In that precise moment, Jake was thinking of the perfect excuse. Nevertheless, after about ten seconds of silent stares, he pulled his second Amy Santiago of the day.

“No, sir. I’m sorry, sir,” he apologized quietly. He looked down to ignore the big amount of curious eyes looking in his direction. Sure, Jake was born for the stage, but drawing unwanted attention was one of the things he despised the most. He rugged the list and threw it inside his backpack, praying that the class could go on without making him stand out any more than he already had.

 

_**PROBLEMS!!!!!** (two weeks) _

__ 1\. college _ _ __  
_ 2\. the play _ __  
_ 3\. amy. _ __  


 

 

* * *

 

 

Jake stepped into the Peralta Residence after what seemed like an eternity and a half. He wasn’t one of those guys that hated even the idea of going to class, but he was certain that the next fourteen days would feel like hell to him if he didn’t get his problems solved fast. And so, leaving his backpack by the door, he entered the living room and encountered his dad, his mom, and Adam Sandler. Just to make things clear, Jake didn’t  _ know _ Adam Sandler, thankfully, but his annoying voice was coming out the TV and so, he assumed his parents were, once again, watching a bad movie to pass the time (pass the time = talk less = fight less = get through the day).

He cleared his throat to catch their attention. His mother looked at him and smiled, but his dad kept watching whatever movie the Warner Channel was streaming at four in the afternoon.

“Hey, uh, hi,” Jake mumbled, nervous as a long-tailed cat in a room full of rocking chairs. “Can… Can we talk?”

“Sure, honey. What’s up?” His mom said, moving a chair and motioning so Jake would sit in it. He stayed still as a rock, though, waiting for his father’s minimum sign of acknowledgment.

“I wanted to — ” he started formulating a very rehearsed sentence when his mother’s cellphone interrupted.  _ Rude _ . Still, Karen took the call and whispered a  _ sorry _ before walking out. Roger, his father, continued to ignore the whole situation. Still, Jake swallowed and tried to proceed. “Dad, I wanted to talk about college.”

Roger looked at him, his face turning almost robotically. “What is there to talk about? Is the letter of admission here yet?”

“No,” _Well,_ _yes, it was._ But Jake didn’t want his father knowing about that fact any time soon. Or ever at all. “I wanted to talk about my career?” He took a deep breath. “I know you guys want me to get a Business major, but—”

“You’re not gonna come at us with the acting shit again, are you?” He asked. Or threatened. Jake couldn’t tell the difference.

“Well, yeah, but — ”

“Are you _ kidding _ me? No. We’ve discussed this. No kid of mine is gonna graduate to be a loser. You won’t follow that stupid career.”

“Dad, I — ”

“I’m done with this conversation,” he stated, looking at the screen. Jake felt the heat in his cheeks and his hands became fists. He felt as though a volcano had just erupted inside him.

“So, what, I don’t even get to say a word about my own education? I’m supposed to go to dumb business school and become a dumb accountant and work in a dumb office for the rest of my life?” He said, or, well,  _ yelled _ .

Roger looked at him and stood up. Jake took a step back as a reflex, and his whole body adopted a defensive position. “No son of mine — ” He growled, “is ever — ” he took another step, “going to become a loser,” he finally grabbed him by the shirt. Jake’s eyes filled with panic as he struggled to break free from his grip. His chest felt tight and he could hear his own heartbeat. Roger seemed to study his expression for a second and then, after what seemed like hours, he let him go. Jake ran away and up the stairs immediately, trying to breathe by gasps and locking the bedroom entrance behind him.

He leaned on the wooden door and closed his eyes, shaking. He couldn’t think straight, he couldn’t see straight, and he was sure he wasn’t even listening straight because he could  _ hear _ his own thoughts. He hugged himself, trying to breathe, but he couldn’t. He felt as though the floor was cracking and opening wide underneath him, like that scene in Toy Story where the cards and the toys fall on a hole of darkness. His chest went up and down irregularly, and his throat felt dry, still warm where his father’s hands had grabbed him earlier. Tumbling, he reached his bed and grasped a pillow. Trying to count like when doing a scene, he did his best at focusing on numbers.  _ One, two, three, four… _

He wasn’t sure how long it took, but eventually, his senses dialed down. He took a few deep breaths to make sure that he was there, that that was his bedroom and that he was safe. He looked down at his hands and felt a familiar tingle. Rapidly, trying to focus on the present and not on anything else, Jake grabbed his notebook and a pencil and let his hands glide through and through the paper. He drew frequent shapes and figures first, and then he let his less conscious side take over and transform said patterns into  _ feelings _ .

An hour went by, followed by another one. He lost track of time, but by the time he had finished and grabbed his phone, blurry numbers on the screen marked two in the morning.  _ It’s okay _ , he thought,  _ I can skip first period _ . He opened his camera and took a few decent pictures of the piece to then enter the same old Tumblr site.

You see, Jake’s school was indeed weird and fastidious, but the community had made some interesting advances. For example, there was the school radio everyone listened to on Saturdays, not because it was particularly interesting, but because it was the school radio and everyone listened to it on Saturdays. Another example would be the Tumblr site, exclusive for students, where everyone was free to talk about anything. Jake, for himself, started posting his own art there anonymously around a year ago. It wasn’t to share per se or to get any kind of recognition. He never even got acknowledged. Maybe that’s what he enjoyed  — to share his art without feeling the shame of facing the entire school. Sure, he was very confident and proud when it came to acting, but with his drawings everything was different. When he performed, he had the chance to be someone else. He wasn’t Jake, he was Peter Pan. On the other hand, when his drawings were under the spotlight, he felt more exposed than ever. It was only through ink and paint that he felt like his true, most deep self. It was his little own secret way to vent, and so far, it went amazingly well.

Exhausted after a long, frustrating day, Jake posted the drawing as an untitled and went to bed. He didn’t even look at his phone, he was  _ that _ tired. That’s why he didn’t see certain notification until the very next morning, no. He needed to sleep and so, he slept, having no idea that that particular message would change the course of the next fourteen days… And his entire high-school, even. For now, Jake slept, away from every risk and controversy. 


	2. The Darlings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> jake gets an email.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the emails begin! writing in this format is so fun and i like how it turned out. hope you enjoy!
> 
> trigger warnings: mentions of anxiety.

Claude1975, you have one (1) new email notification and five hundred twenty-six (526) old unread emails! Click here to see them.

 

> from:     Era (mysterysonatas19@gmail.com)  
> to:         Claude (alleyyways1975@gmail.com)  
> date:     Fri, Jul 5, 2019, at 7:28 AM  
> subject: Drawing
> 
> Hello, Claude!
> 
> I’m ~~Amy Santiago~~ a student from your school, and I’m just writing you this email ~~because your drawings are freaking insane, dude!~~ I was looking at the feed of the school’s Tumblr page and I bumped into one of your drawings, the last one you posted. It’s so good! You’re so talented!
> 
> Anyway, I’ve noticed that your account is anonymous and I don’t want to invade, but I noticed your art is always composed by an incredible amount of feelings. If you don’t mind me asking (which you probably do because I’m a stranger), what feeling exactly motivated your last piece, Untitled?
> 
> I hope you’re doing well and I hope you’ll keep drawing.
> 
> ~~Your biggest fan,~~
> 
> ~~Amy~~
> 
> ~~Amy S.~~
> 
> ~~Amy Santiago~~
> 
> Era

 

Era (MysterySonatas) you have one (1) new email notification and three (3) old unread emails! Click here to see them.

 

> from:     Claude (alleyyways1975@gmail.com)  
> to:         Era (mysterysonatas19@gmail.com)  
> date:     Fri, Jul 5, 2019, at 10:45 AM  
> subject: Re: Drawing
> 
> ~~oh my god did you really like my drawings what~~
> 
> Hey, Era!
> 
> It’s okay. You’re not prying, at all. It’s actually so nice of you, you know? I don’t think anyone has ever noticed my drawings on the school site until now. So, yeah, thanks for that!
> 
> My last drawing is kind of... Heavy. I don’t think you’d be interested in hearing a stranger’s problems. Let’s just say it’s titled Untitled because, well, it was hard to name it after only one emotion. Sorry if that’s not the answer you were hoping for, but really, the long explanation would be kind of annoying.
> 
> ~~I can’t believe you want me to keep drawing wow whAT~~ Thank you so much. I promise I’ll keep drawing. This means a lot.
> 
> Claude

 

Claude1975, you have one (1) new email notification and five hundred twenty-two (522) old unread emails! Click here to see them.

 

> from:     Era (mysterysonatas19@gmail.com)  
> to:         Claude (alleyyways1975@gmail.com)  
> date:     Fri, Jul 5, 2019, at 12:04 PM  
> subject: Re: Re: Drawing
> 
> Claude,
> 
> Don’t thank me, please. It’s nonsense that I’m only the first person to compliment your art. I know a thing or two about Art History myself (I’m a bit of a nerd ~~but not in the bad way I swear I’m not weird~~ ) and the style of your drawings is so... unique. It’s really interesting and captivating.
> 
> Then, again, I don’t want to meddle. If you want to talk about it, feel no shame! I’m really interested in hearing the story and, according to my friends, I’m great at advice, if you feel like ranting about whatever motivation you had for the making of Untitled. I get that maybe I’m just an anonymous and it might feel weird to talk to a stranger... But if you want to, I’m all ears. ~~Or eyes, you know. Since we’re writing.~~
> 
> I’m so glad to hear you’ll keep making art, Claude. ~~I’m kind of your fan. Oh my god that sounded weird didn’t it~~
> 
> Era

 

Era (MysterySonatas) you have one (1) new email notification and zero (0) old unread emails! Click here to see them.

 

> from:     Claude (alleyyways1975@gmail.com)  
> to:         Era (mysterysonatas19@gmail.com)  
> date:     Fri, Jul 5, 2019, at 3:17 PM  
> subject: Re: Re: Re: Drawing
> 
> Era,
> 
> I love Art History, too! Which is weird, because two years ago, loving any school subject seemed impossible, but Art History is just so interesting. You might have noticed that my name, Claude, has something to do with it. I guess we’re both nerds.
> 
> I don’t feel weird talking to you about it. ~~It’s weird, right? To talk to a stranger so openly when we know nothing about each other?~~ Okay. If you’re sure it’s no problem to hear my troubled-teenager stories, I guess I can try to vent. PSA: It can get a little depressing. Sorry about that.
> 
> So, I made this piece, Untitled, after a long day of school. I got called out in class for not paying attention, but the reason why I wasn’t is because of all my problems. Also, Social Studies is the worst subject ever. But that’s unrelated.
> 
> Following someone’s advice, I made a list of all the things I’ve gotta fix before graduating, and then, I tried to work on the first item: college. So I came home and I tried to talk to my parents, but my mom had to leave us because of a work emergency and my dad didn’t seem interested in me being there at all. Still, I brought it up to him, but he reacted... Badly. And without my mom being there to defend me, it just got worse. I ran out as soon as I could and, of course, my anxiety hit the roof. It was kind of sucky moment... But I got through it, and once all my senses were back to normal, I did the only thing I could do. I just sat and drew without even thinking.
> 
> I think Untitled is a composition loaded with so many feelings because, at that moment, my head was full of non-stop thoughts. I took my tiredness and my fears and my... everything... and I projected that on the paper.
> 
> See? It’s dark! It’s sad! It’s troubled-teenager garbage! But I kind of liked the result, so I posted it. And now, here we are.
> 
> It feels good to talk to someone about this, even if I have no idea who you are. Besides acting, drawing is all I have. It’s all I am. And talking about it, knowing that someone cares about it... It feels like being on stage. Does that make sense? ~~I mean, how would you know? The chances are that you don’t even act. God, is this just plain nonsense?~~
> 
> I hope you’re doing well ~~and that I didn’t annoy you with this story~~!
> 
> Claude

 

Claude1975, you have one (1) new email notification and five hundred sixteen (516) old unread emails! Click here to see them.

 

> from:     Era (mysterysonatas19@gmail.com)  
> to:         Claude (alleyyways1975@gmail.com)  
> date:     Fri, Jul 5, 2019, at 5:24 PM  
> subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Drawing
> 
> Claude,
> 
> Art History is awesome! I never knew someone could love it as much as I do. I thought it was a freaky thing of mine. ~~Well, I assumed. I never talk about this stuff... People think it’s lame.~~
> 
> First of all, if you’re afraid you might push me away, don’t. I like helping people. Especially if that’s gonna help them continue doing what they love (drawing, acting, anything).
> 
> Now, about your story... I’m really sorry you had that happen to you. Does your mom know your dad reacts like that? Is that something he usually does? In any way, it’s not right. You deserve to feel safe in your own house. I’m sorry you had to go through that. Maybe try to reach out to your mom, see if that helps?
> 
> I’m glad you got through the anxiety attack. I know how it feels, it’s not nice. If it helps, every time I have one, I try to do a math problem. I know it sounds nerdy or weird, but it actually helps to focus on numbers and objective stuff. It helps me dial down my brain.
> 
> I think I understand the meaning of Untitled, now. It’s a great piece, Claude, seriously. I can’t get tired of saying that. It might be sad, the reason or feeling that lead you to Untitled, but I believe it happened for a reason. So, again, I beg that you keep drawing. Your art is really something else.
> 
> I’m glad you find it comforting to vent here. I might be a stranger, but if you ever need to talk, count me in! You seem like a great person, and I like talking to you, too. And I don’t know how it feels to be on stage, not by first-hand experiences, at least. But my friends are actors and they seem to share that feeling. With me, I think I find that sensation when I write. It’s the feeling that you’re leaving your body and floating around in a different direction. The feeling that you stop being you and you get to be anyone else.
> 
> It’s nice to share that with ~~you~~ someone.
> 
> Era

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> that’s chapter two! i’m gonna alternate emails and narrated chapters. i know this looks like it isn’t going anywhere... but trust me! it is!
> 
> next up: a more in-depth look at jake and amy’s friendship — and how they’re both crazy for each other. also, rehearsals for the play!
> 
> thanks for reading and supporting, i love u all and i appreciate your comments and opinions! feel free to leave your kudos and follow me on twitter, @perqltas. i’m pretty cool
> 
> (psa: i don’t have a posting schedule. i’ll try to keep up with the daily chapters so i can post the whole thing before class starts <3)


	3. Peter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> jake sings. amy wonders.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi! chapter three is here! i really like this one, and i hope you like it too. in case you didn’t know, i’d die for these two chaotic more-than-friends.
> 
> trigger warnings: none!

Jake’s known for being of late arrivals; to class, to parties, to doctor appointments… But never once in his life, he’s been late for acting class. There’s something about it that makes him find that auditorium as a safe place. And boy, did Jake need a safe place.

First, his dad reacted badly when he tried to bring up college. Second, graduation was coming up, and with it, the premiere of one of the plays Jake had invested more time and energy on ever. And third…

“Okay, everyone, get into position so we can do this one more time!” _Amy_. Every time Jake even looked in her direction, he felt his heart skip a beat. The sound of her laugh, the way she smiled and blushed when she got called out for being a little bit nerdy… Jake was head over heels for her, and he didn’t even try to tell himself otherwise. He had been in love with Amy Santiago for years, and he knew that the longer they knew each other, the deeper he fell.

He sneaked up to her and surprised her from the back. Amy, in response, gave a little jump and gasped. “Jake! What are you _doing_?” She whispered. The lights of the auditorium had been dimmed and Amy was supposed to give the order to play the next track any second now. As a reply, Jake smirked.

“My song isn’t up yet. I thought I’d give you some company, you know, and see how the life of a director and writer is…”

Amy blushed. She knew (she _thought_ she knew) Jake didn’t mean to do anything but mess with her, but she had to admit: it felt so nice whenever he pretended to care about her working skills.

“Okay, then,” she smiled and turned to a student in the back that started playing a song Jake knew _so_ well. He adored every bit of that play.

On stage, our Wendy appeared. A young Jenny Gildenhorn who had just had her braces removed, and was now flashing a new haircut (is it a haircut, though, if her hair looks the same but shinier?). She sang the first lines, and Amy couldn’t help but glance over at her friend.

 _They used to date_ , she remembered. But she knew Jake had no feelings for her. Not that she cared, anyway. He was looking at the scene in progress, but as he felt a pair eyes staring in his direction, he turned and gave Amy a smile that made her feel weird on the bottom of her stomach.

They stared for a while, until the song reached the end. It wasn’t an awkward stare, it was quite the opposite. You’d think that looking into your loved one’s eyes would be weird and intimidating, but Jake just loved the way Amy’s eyes always had that _spark_. He just wondered what was going on inside her head.

“Your song is up,” she whispered after a few seconds of silence.

“Hmm?” Jake hit reality with the end of the song. He raised both eyebrows and it took him a while to understand what was happening. Then, he snapped back into place. “Oh! Yeah. My song. Right… So, you know, I should…” he motioned towards the stage and as Amy nodded, he ran off comically. She just stood there and waited for him to be fully up the platform to give the signal, and so, the first chords of _What Happens When You’re Grown Up_ vibrated from the piano and into her ears in the form of a sweet melody.

She watched and contemplated how Jake and _Wendy_ exchanged a very in-character discussion in the form of a song. In this scene, Wendy is once again attempting to convince Peter to give up his dream of staying as a boy his whole life and grow up, form a family, _become a man_.

“So, instead of school and then studying law, I’ve decided to stay as a boy,” Jake sang. Amy couldn’t believe how spot-on his Peter Pan was. She was in awe with the quality of his performance.

“But, Peter, you can’t stay as a boy all your life! Just think how exciting it would be to be man and a father,” Wendy sang back, and every word felt like a knife that went right through Jake’s chest. His face turned red and he moved his arms around, like a little boy who’s told he can’t do whatever it is that he wants.

Amy observed his facial expression and wondered if Jake got the accuracy of his acting from firsthand experience. She always looked at him and saw a dreamer, a kid, an artist. She just never wondered if everyone in his life loved those traits as much as she did. As the song went by, she wished desperately that Jake was accepted and appreciated by everyone as much as by her.

“Wendy, you must understand your parent’s life is hard,” he sang. “Dressed up fine and looking grand, it’s only a façade; too much responsibility involved in being a man. There’s one little boy who won’t grow up, that’s Peter Pan!”

After the staged debate ended and, with it, the scene, Jake looked over at Amy from the stage and smiled. She smiled back and walked towards him.

“Five minute break?” She offered. He nodded and extended his hand to then help her get up on stage with him. There, they sat on the floor and looked at their surroundings. With baby steps, but the auditorium was starting to look ready for the big premiere.

 _The big premiere_. Something inside Jake’s chest sting. He frowned and sighed.

“What’s up, Jake?” Amy asked.

“Well…” he looked at her and found her worried gaze. He gave her a half-smile. “Not much. I’m just worried about college.”

“Have you told your parents about the play, yet?”

He shook his head slowly. “And _that_. I tried to do it the other day. Didn’t work,” he replied.

Amy tilted her head a little, studying his expression. She couldn’t understand how a person as good as him got stuck with such an unsupportive family. Well, an unsupportive _dad_. It just didn’t make sense to her. Jake was a great friend and an amazing actor… The thought of his dad reacting poorly to the opportunity of seeing him shine made her incredibly angry. She wished she could take all his pain away.

Amy Santiago was, indeed, an awesome friend as well.

She reached out her hand and touched his shoulder. “It’s gonna be fine, pineapples,” Jake’s face broke in a laugh, and his factions lit up with it. Amy felt a little relieved. “You ready?”

He nodded and jumped on his feet to then help her stand up as well. “Whenever you’re ready, boss.”

Jake got into position once again and Amy mouthed a ‘ _Hit it!_ ’ towards the piano. Charles, the pianist, started playing _Why?_ and so, Jake began with the scene.

So different to the dynamics of the last piece, _Why?_ was a slow song, an emotional song. It was heart-wrenching and, when well-portrayed, it was the one that made the public get in touch with Peter Pan’s feelings: the sentiment of denial, of not wanting to grow up, but also the sadness and impotence that he felt knowing that he had no saying in his own future.

A feeling Jake knew well.

He swam into the song, singing with passion, and got lost in the moment. There was no stage, no empty chairs, no problems. It was just him, opening his heart and letting the melody in.

“Oh, open your eyes. C’mon, what do you see? I can’t be the person you want me to be,” he phrased. The words came of his mouth and he felt as though he was letting every feeling of pain and fear out once again. The only other time he’d ever felt like that was that last friday over emails with the anonymous person, Era.

Jake thought about them frequently ever since that day, and sure, only three days had passed, but there was something… Something about it. It had to do with finding out that he was valid and wanted, not only because of his art but because of him as a person. Someone who didn’t know who he was found him interesting enough to keep a conversation going. And they didn’t freak out and walk away when Jake talked about his problems, no. They listened. Jake felt weird and warm inside ever since. _Oh, God. Was he crushing on that anonymous person?_

“Just tell me, why do you ask me to change for you? Why should you want me to? Go on, tell me when you believed I’d grow up your way? And do I have no say about _me_?” Jake’s eyes filled with tears, but he was a professional actor and managed to dump all the sentiment into the song. In the middle of the hall of empty chairs, Amy shed a tear. Right there and then, she’s certain she has never loved anyone more.

She didn’t want to admit it, but Amy was kind of a big mess herself as well. Sure, she had outstanding grades and she had gotten into the college of her dreams, but emotionally-wise? Amy was _screwed_ . She never tried to deny internally that she had strong feelings towards Jake, but in the last couple of months she had fallen for him in the most chaotic way possible, to the point she just felt _lost_ . Used to having everything under control, Amy found herself panicking whenever Jake smiled in her direction — and this is _Jake_ we’re talking about. The same Jake she had known ever since she was a little girl and they got in trouble for breaking a doorknob in first grade.

She shook he head and checked her phone quickly to not disturb the others, especially Jake, who was getting close to the end of the song. _No new messages._ She sighed. She had this strange feeling about this guy she had been emailing, Claude. She didn’t know him, except for the fact that they went to the same school and he was a great artist, but talking to him… It felt as though they were longtime friends. She felt like she knew him, and as she found herself thinking that very same thought, Amy called herself out for being so cliché. _What was wrong with her? Was she really feeling things for a stranger?_

She didn’t even realize the scene had ended until she heard someone break into applause. Charles, the piano man, was _crying_ , and Amy couldn’t blame him. That was one of the best performances she’d ever seen in her life, and she was a Certified Theatre Nerd. She clapped as well and she couldn’t tell, but Jake’s heart sped up because of that.

He jumped off the stage and ran his hands through his hair. He was still feeling the unique adrenaline that a good scene gave him. “So, what did you think?” He asked, only a tiny bit nervous. He wasn’t one to go around asking for approval, but he cared about _one_ opinion. Amy’s.

She looked at him and took a deep breath. “That was— I just—” she mumbled, to what Jake frowned. _Shedidntlikeit._

But then, Amy, speechless for the first time in a long time, just hugged him. She didn’t think about it, it was an impulse. The urgent need to do so.

Jake froze for a second before hugging her back. His heart was racing. When they separated, he immediately missed the warmth of her contact. _Can it, Peralta,_ he told himself as he asked, “What was that for?”

Amy blushed. “I don’t know.”

They stared at each other in silence for a couple of seconds.

“So,” Jake spoke again. “You liked the scene?”

“I did. You’re a really good Peter Pan.”

“Because I’m brave and strong and handsome?”

“I was gonna say it’s because you look like a _kid_ , but yeah, sure. Whatever floats your boat,” she replied and Jake laughed out loud.

“The costumes are here! The costumes are here!” Gina ran into scene with a shorter, skinnier guy following her back holding two big boxes with an inscription that read “PETER PAN: THE MUSICAL”.

Jake opened his eyes wide and smiled. He looked at Amy with excitement and she mouthed a _go ahead_ , and so, he ran towards the mass of people that had formed around the boxes.

Just like that, Amy stood there, alone, watching from a distance, and the moment was over.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so, that was chapter three! please, don’t be scared to share your opinions about the story, i love reading comments and receiving feedback <3
> 
> next up: more emails! and jake has to make an important decision.
> 
> don’t forget to leave your kudos and comments and follow me on twitter (@perqltas)! i’m cool, i promise.


	4. What Happens When You’re Grown Up

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> more emails: taylor swift, the neighborhood, violins and leaps of faith.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> chapter four is here! yay!  
> my heart just melts writing era and claude... jake and amy are soulmates and writing stories about them is beautiful. i hope you enjoy!
> 
> no trigger warnings.

Era (MysterySonatas19), you have one (1) new email notification and two (2) old unread emails! Click here to see them.

> from:     Claude (alleyyways1975@gmail.com)  
>  to:         Era (mysterysonatas19@gmail.com)   
>  date:     Mon, Jul 8, 2019 at 7:39 PM   
>  subject: VIOLINIST?   
>   
>  Era,   
>   
>  When I asked about the music you liked, I was honestly just expecting to hear read “yeah, boy! I’m all into T-Swift!” (which would be awesome, because Taylor Swift is the God of my religion), but you play the VIOLIN? Is there anything you CAN’T do?   
>   
>  If you ever played in public, then you _do_ know what it’s like for me to be on stage! It must be so amazing, the feeling of making music with your own hands.   
>   
>  For me, my favorite band would be The Neighborhood (the Backstreet Boys and Panic! At The Disco are right up there, too). There’s something about their songs, I just like them. ~~Wow sorry I really don’t know how to explain myself huh~~ I know people probably believe The Nbhd is just white trash you find on random Spotify playlists, but it’s actually kind of a nice vibe they give out.   
>   
>  And, about your other question... No, I haven’t talked to them, yet. I don’t think I have it in me, to be honest. I mean, what’s the _worst_ thing that could happen if I just don’t tell them?   
>   
>  Claude   
>   
> 

 

Claude1975, you have one (1) new email notification and three hundred seventy-two (372) old unread emails! Click here to see them.

> from:     Era (mysterysonatas19@gmail.com)  
>  to:         Claude (alleyyways1975@gmail.com)   
>  date:     Mon, Jul 8, 2019 at 9:03 PM   
>  subject: Re: VIOLINIST?   
>    
>  Claude,   
>    
>  I don’t know if I should be offended or not by your assumption. Do I _really_ look like a Taylor Swift fan? Not that there’s anything wrong with her. Her voice is suuuper powerful, it makes me feel stuff (it makes us _all_ feel stuff). I just don’t really like any bands or artists that could be considered... modern. My family kind of raised me with a violin in my hand and a book full of Mozart pieces on the other, so I grew up listening to classical music. It’s lame, I know.
> 
> I have practiced in the school’s auditorium more than once, but never around people. And yes, absolutely, the feeling of making music is the most wonderful thing to ever happen to anyone. It makes your whole body vibrate, like an out-of-body experience. Like you’re contemplating your world, your life, at your own pace. Sometimes I’m actually glad I don’t show others my music, you know? Like, this is _my_ thing, what makes me unique. Still, I could consider making an exception... One day. Maybe.
> 
> Okay, I had to read that twice to make sure I got it right, because if I don’t look like a violinist, you definitely don’t look like a The Neighborhood kind of guy. You have earned my respect, though. The Backstreet Boys? P!ATD? I love that! Kudos.
> 
> About your parents... I know it might look like you can’t do it, like you don’t have it in you, but I promise you do. Even if they take it the wrong way, you have to try. If you don’t, you’re gonna regret it. You’re gonna have the feeling that you didn’t try every option and eventually you’ll feel bad with yourself and that’s not fair for you! You deserve to be able to talk and to be listened. And if things go south, you have ~~me~~ your friends — they have your back, so, you’re not really alone, are you?
> 
> Era 
> 
>  

Era (MysterySonatas19), you have one (1) new email notification and one (1) old unread email! Click here to see them.

> from:     Claude (alleyyways1975@gmail.com)  
>  to:         Era (mysterysonatas19@gmail.com)   
>  date:     Tues, Jul 9, 2019 at 10:04 AM   
>  subject: Re: Re: VIOLINIST?   
>    
>  Era,   
>    
>  You should not be offended! At all! Taylor Swift fans are a great contribution to the progress of this country, nay, the WORLD. If you ask me, getting confused with a swiftie is the highest level of compliment. I also don’t think it’s lame to like something just because no one else does. I think it’s cool, actually. It’s way better to be the only one who likes something than being just like everyone else. Imagine if we all had the same opinion... It would be a world full of copycats!   
>    
>  I know exactly what you mean, to be honest. I feel the same with my drawings. It’s what makes me, me — it feels weird to put my name (my _real_ name) on it and just share it with the world. Like a part of its spark is that secrecy and privacy it has. And that vibration? Yeah. I feel that when I act. It’s the most wonderful feeling ever. I’m really glad you know what it’s like.   
>    
>  The Neighborhood rules, Era! Not only I am a The Nbhd guy, I freaking _invented_ being a The Nbhd guy.   
>    
> Also, I love the fact that you just said ‘kudos’ on a sentence like it’s no big deal. It was worth the mention.
> 
> I know you’re right. I know I have to tell them. I’m just... scared, you know? A part of me kind of believes that if I never tell them, I’ll never get the disappointment, but I know I’m just tricking myself. It means a lot, that you take the time to say this stuff. You know, you’re actually the coolest internet stranger I’ve met.
> 
> Claude 

 

Claude1975, you have one (1) new email notification and three hundred twenty-nine (329) old unread emails! Click here to see them.

> from:    Era (mysterysonatas19@gmail.com)   
>  to:         Claude (alleyyways1975@gmail.com)   
>  date:     Tues, Jul 9, 2019 at 4:12 PM   
>  subject: Re: Re: Re: VIOLINIST?   
>   
>  Claude,   
>   
>  A world of copycats sounds like a nightmare, you’re probably right. And I don’t regret liking the stuff I like... It’s a part of me, sort of. Also, A World Of Copycats sounds like a great name for a post-apocalyptic film! You should trademark it and get rich.   
>   
>  Wow, I didn’t know I was standing before the King of Nbhd Guys. Should I bow, my lord? (I’m just kidding but I’m actually gonna take your word and believe that you’re the #1 The Neighborhood fan because you’re a pretty convincing fanboy, Claude)   
>   
> ~~MY HEART KSJSKSJA~~ Yeah, you’re the coolest internet stranger I’ve talked to, too. Not that there’s been a lot of competition, but still.   
>   
>  You know, I wanna become an engineer, one day. When I grow up. At first, I thought my parents would never approve my desire to work as anything that didn’t include becoming the next Biber. I kept it a secret for so long... But then, I told them! And it turns out, it was way better than I had expected. They took it just fine. And now, I’m really glad I was brave enough to come forward, just like I know you are, too.   
>   
>  That’s all it is, Claude. A leap of faith.   
>   
>  Era 

 

Era (MysterySonatas19), you have one (1) new email notification and zero (0) old unread emails! Click here to see them.

> from:    Claude (alleyyways1975@gmail.com)  
>  to:         Era (mysterysonatas19@gmail.com)   
>  date:     Tues, Jul 9, 2019 at 6:08 PM   
>  subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: VIOLINIST?   
>    
>  Era,   
>    
> WAS THAT A SPIDER-MAN REFERENCE??

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so that was chapter four! i’ll be here as soon as posible with chapter five.
> 
> next up: jake has a heart-to-heart conversation with her mother.
> 
> if you’re enjoying the story, please let me know with a kudo or a comment! also, follow me on twitter (@perqltas), i promise i’m cool <3

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading! if you liked it (or if you didn't) please feel free to leave a comment or a kudo <3 and, if you want, follow me in twitter! my user is @perqltas and i'm really cool.
> 
> p.s: the titles of every chapter will be named after songs from peter pan: the british musical! i recommend listening to the lyrics of said songs, it's a great play and it has a lot to do with our plot.


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